Capture
by VampChippzRisesAgain
Summary: When Diarmuid gets into some trouble, it's up to Cu Chulainn to help him out. He wasn't, however, expecting to meet an enigma dubbed Archer and to battle demons with a mere Polaroid. Oh, Arturia was going to hear it from him later. *I don't own anything but the plot. Not even the cover pic!*
1. Chapter 1

_I don't own_ _ **anything**_ _but the idea for this story. All characters belong to their respectful owners. Enjoy!_

* * *

" _ **Dankatsu no daichi kuzure satta moro i kibo awai mirai. Atarimae no yo ni ashita ga mata otozureru to shinjite ita…"**_ _~IMAGINARY LIKE THE JUSTICE by Nanahoshi Orchestra_

 _ **("The split earth crumbled away like bitter dreams and a weak future. I believed that tomorrow would come, like it always would…")**_

* * *

 _There have been tales circulating around about the Himuro Mansion located just outside of Fuyuki, enshrouded not only by mystery but by the woods surrounding it. This same house was scheduled to be demolished twice; both times the workers were found weeks later in grotesque shape, innards used to hang themselves on the front gate as a warning. Any further plans for demolition were quickly wiped off the table and left, companies not willing to risk incurring any resident spirit's wrath. More deaths than ever recorded had occurred beforehand; investigators, wanderers, children, and explorers all lost their lives in the area. Some say that a brutal murder on an unspeakable scale occurred there; others say that the family ordered their servants to commit seppuku and hung themselves in the end. The rumors are mainly about the spirits seen haunting the corridors of the mansion, unable to move on due to the unspeakable sins committed in the aging building. Overtime, however, the tales and rumors about the Himuro Mansion have diminished into mere fairytales, used for warning children to never enter an unknown or abandoned house._

 _The people forgot to fear the supernatural._

 _However, there_ _are_ _still people out there enamored by these strange stories, looking for some excitement in their lives-a sense of_ _ **danger**_ _to feed their addicted nerves. Students had regularly dared each other to step foot into the house to show their bravery. They were then given a reason to stop their foolish dares; the house had made it on TV when it was reported that a man named Emiya Shirou went missing in a close vicinity to the mansion. His family members and friends were all in shock as they waited for their loved one to return; he never did._

 _No one has found his body to this very day..._

* * *

 _ **35 Years Later-Present Day**_

"..-cer! Lancer! _SETANTA!"_ A blue-haired male jolts awake, blinking his crimson orbs sleepily up at a woman who stood over him. She sighs as she adjusts her glasses, watching him as he sits up with some difficulty.

"Why are you saying my name, Medusa…?" He mutters sleepily, strands of hair sticking up to portray his bedhead. The woman gives him a sharp look, to which he answers with a toothy grin.

"It's Maddie or Rider, _Lancer."_ The man, dubbed Lancer apparently, hops out of bed next to her and stretches.

"It's only fair since you said my name…" Rider scoffs but stays quiet for a bit, knowing that he's right.

"I don't know why you hate it; it refers to the Child of Light in Ireland." Lancer scrunches up his nose at the thought.

"Then just call me Cu; there's no one in history called that. Actually, no; Lancer has a better ring to it." The woman, Rider, shakes her head in exasperation before speaking.

"I just woke you up because I had made breakfast-" Lancer is off like a lightning bolt, eating half of the bacon and an impressive amount of scrambled eggs by the time Rider walks downstairs. She shakes her head once more at the scene before grabbing her own plate and digging in.

"You can always set aside a plate for me, you know. Oh, make sure to save some for Gil." Lancer stops midchew to process her words, his fork dropping to his plate.

"Do I _have_ to…?" He complains after swallowing, grinning sheepishly at Rider's stern gaze.

"I don't know, Lancer; do _you_ want to deal with an angry Gil at 5 am?" Lancer flinches at the thought, remembering the times when the blonde had swung a baseball bat down on his head, made him go to the zoo at 3 in the morning to "go and entertain" the lions in the dens, almost suffocated him with stuffed animals, and chased him around their house, dousing him in kerosene with a lighter in hand as he tried to set him on fire. (He doesn't know where the other male had gotten the lighter from; it had just... _appeared_ in his hands, it seemed.)

"...I'll take that as a no." Rider states as Lancer nods his head furtively. They pause as they hear someone stumble into the dining room.

"...You made breakfast, Rider…?" Gilgamesh murmurs, rubbing his eyes as he sits down. Like Lancer (only after a tiring day of work as a photographer, however), Gil is not a morning person in the slightest. However, Rider had mentioned to Lancer at one point that a tired and sleepy Gil is the best Gil to be seen as well as the best one for their minds, hearts, and souls to handle. Since this was Lancer's first day off with them as his roommates, this is his first encounter with this side of Gilgamesh and finds himself agreeing with Rider.

 _At least he isn't biting anyone's head off...what a relief. Actually, he's like a little kid; full of energy ¾ of the time and becoming super tired once he uses it all..._

 _...not that I'll say it to his face._

"Yes; we saved some for you." Rider replies, handing him a plate. He mutters a _thank you_ and eats quietly, trying to wake himself up even further. Lancer gets an idea and stands up, Rider looking at him in question. The look on her face read _You're about to do something you'll regret later, aren't you_ judging by the way her eyelids close halfway and her mouth forms an almost straight, thin line. Lancer shrugs, mouthing _What have I got to lose_ as he clears his throat.

"Hey, Gil." A soft and tired hum comes from the blonde, the man looking up at Lancer's crimson orbs with his own ruby ones.

"I'm gonna make cinnamon rolls." Gil blinks once, twice, before springing to life, Rider stifling her chuckles behind her hand as he shoots up in his seat and slams his fists down onto the table.

"Well what are you waiting for, dog?!" He demands excitedly, ignoring Lancer's deadpan at his nickname for him, "Make those delectable treats at once!" Lancer shivers at the thought of dying if he chooses to refuse the man his sweets so he gets to work.

"Do you need any help?" Rider asks him ten minutes later, Gil drying the last of the dishes she had handed to him. Lancer grins at her offer, nodding as he stirs the sugar, beaten eggs, and oil with the yeast and warm water. He had put on a blue apron in case he spills anything onto his cherished clothes, hair tied back in his usual style with four cobalt strands hanging down in front of his face.

"Yeah, actually. The cinnamon rolls are gonna be giant, so that means more work for me; it'd go by faster if I had someone to help me out." Rider puts on her own apron and smiles, grabbing the flour and pouring it into the mix. Lancer opens his mouth to tell her to stop at the right amount when Gil pops up in between them, stern gaze pointed at Lancer.

"How dare you not request permission from your king?" Lancer sweatdrops, about to say _No Gil, you're_ _not_ _our king nor are you anyone's_ when the blonde interrupts him once again.

"You are lucky that this time I will tolerate your impudence. I am to make the icing at once, correct?" Gil moves off to grab another bowl, pouring in confectioners sugar and vanilla extract with great efficiency.

 _He's...pretty good. I guess he won't be that much of a nuisance in the kitchen...having him as my roommate in college was bad enough._ The trio had first met in high school and went off to college together, Lancer being unlucky enough (he swears that his luck is Rank E or something) to have the pleasure of sharing a small, confined space with Gilgamesh (Rider got a room all to herself, that sly, persuasive woman). Admittedly, while the two argued half of their years away in college, Lancer viewed Gil as a precious comrade, a brother-in-arms against the evils of writing 5 essays in one night. During their time together he's come to know when Gil was (subconsciously) joking with his threats and when to not aggravate him during his less... _pleasant_ days.

"...Right," He says with a grin on his face before his phone buzzes repeatedly in his pocket.

 _A call? Strange..._

He rinses his hands off and instructs Rider to take over, walking out of the room to take the call.

"Setanta Chulainn speaking."

" _...Cu?"_ His younger brother says hesitantly on the other end. Lancer lets out a sigh of relief, not one for being formal for so long.

"Diarmuid, hey! How's it goin-"

" _A-Are you really_ _you_ _? You're not messing with me? The reception here's bad, but-"_ Lancer hears shuffling in the background and his brother inhales sharply. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion and worry, all signs of relaxation gone.

"What do you mean, Little Bro? Where are you?" He asks, feeling dread begin to form in the pit of his stomach. His brother goes silent for a few seconds before he shudders out his breath.

" _In Himuro Mansion. I was sent there by Arturia to take a few pictures of the interior, but it's so dark and the door locked behind me-"_

"You're _there?"_ Lancer's heard of the horror stories himself but thought that Arturia, his employer and fellow friend (nicknamed Saber), was going to give that job to him tomorrow.

" _Yeah, I'm-"_ He stops abruptly, and Lancer hears some rustling. " _It's here; I can't stay in this spot for long."_ Lancer knew what that phrase meant; one of the few protocols they made together when they lived on their own.

"When can we meet up?" He responds immediately, and Diarmuid sighs in relief.

" _It_ _is_ _you...this thing's been messing with my phone, having me dial your number and having "you" pick up when it wasn't really you…"_ He pauses for a moment, as if he's listening for something, and speaks.

" _Once you head into the mansion, take a right and follow the corridor down. Then, take a left at the intersection and I'll be in the third door on your left."_ He's speaking rapidly now, and Lancer can hear a low growl that wasn't from either of them.

" _Oh, god, it's here-"_ The line cuts and goes to static. Lancer grips his phone tightly before shoving it into his pocket, running past the kitchen upstairs. He changes into a white t-shirt and blue jeans, grabbing his black jacket and _flying_ down the stairs in a hurry.

"Lancer?" Rider asks as the blue-haired man adjusts his ponytail to make sure it's secure. Once crimson orbs meet lavender Rider nods.

"Go; we'll finish the cinnamon rolls while you're gone." Gil peeks his head around the corner and scowls.

"If you're not back by 7pm I'll come and kick your ass myself, you mongrel." Lancer grins, waving as he puts on his black combat boots in haste, making sure that he has his phone on him.

"I'll hold you to it, Gil. I'll call if anything comes up!" He shuts the door behind him and runs towards his cherished red skateboard he named Gae Bolg, putting it wheels first on the ground and shooting like a bullet down the sidewalk.

"Well then," Rider starts as she passes by Gilgamesh towards the kitchen, "Let's finish these for Lancer so we can tell him how good out baking has gotten, okay?" Gilgamesh is not too far behind her, already proclaiming that his baking skills "Far surpasses those of the dog's" while waving a wooden spoon around, looking less like a threat and more like Sella during her rants to Leysritt. Rider can merely sigh with a smile on her face as the two get to work.

* * *

It takes half an hour for Lancer to reach the mansion surrounded by trees and immediately the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He bristles, getting off of his beloved skateboard and pushing open the front gates open. The metal groans in protest before giving away, permitting him entry. Picking up his board he rushes through, leaning it against the wall of the house before walking up the steps. His sixth sense tells him to turn back, to _run_ before it's too late, but he merely grits his teeth and forces the door to open. What hits him is the damp, heavy atmosphere as well as the lighting, suffocating and dark to the point of making him rethink his decision of coming alone.

 _I'm no pansy; I came here to save my brother and I'll do it!_ He looks around the room without stepping foot inside, hair falling over his shoulder as he scans from left to right in search of an object that can prop the door open. He then spots it: A cement block laying innocently on the floor...7 feet away from the door.

Now, Lancer isn't that tall and can't reach the item without stepping inside. _Well, shit._ For some reason, he feels that once he steps foot inside he'll never make it back out alive.

 _...Just for a few seconds, right? Yeah._ He then sprints for the item, picking it up and turning around when the doors slam shut and click into place; _locked._

"I knew this wasn't going to be easy, but come _on_!" He mutters under his breath before groping his way through the darkness, hands splayed out in front on him. Something clatters to the ground in front of him and he jumps, freezing in place for a moment before kneeling to the ground to grasp it.

It felt smooth, yet rough. New, yet old. His fingers travel over the surface of the object to feel cool glass. _A camera? Now you don't see that everyday._ He wonders silently, marvelling at how it's managed to wind up _here_ of all places. _Feels like a Polaroid. Wait, doesn't it have night vision…?_ He turns it on to find a roll of film already in place. The name of the camera was etched onto the side of the device and runs his fingers over the letters, trying to map them out in his mind.

"Camera...Obscura?" Lancer finally says in surprise, standing up and grasping it. He found that it has a neck strap, which could come in handy someday ( _As in now,_ he muses to himself with a chuckle). Putting it over his head the device settles right over his heart, the coolness of the metal seeping through the fabric of his jacket and shirt. He turns on his phone to check the battery; _95%. Good thing I had it charged, huh…_ He keeps it on, the dim light illuminating the space that was four feet in front of him.

 _I should keep it on low; I have a hunch that I'll be here for a while and I want to conserve as much energy as I can._ He holds it out in front of him, looking left and right as he tries to locate the corridor his brother was talking about. _Was it left or right…?_ As he contemplates his next move he bumps into something.

"Ah-" He then pauses and looks up to see a man with his back turned to him, unmoving for a second. Lancer's mind goes blank as he tries to process how the man got in front of him, instead coming up with a question accompanied by a terrifying answer.

 _...I thought it was just Diarmuid and I in here, so how did he get in when the door is…?_ Lancer stumbles backwards, watching as the man slowly turns to him. Instead of seeing pitch black orbs or just no eyes at all (He _really_ should stop watching so many horror movies with Gilgamesh) he's met with steel orbs that bore into his crimson ones.

"My bad," Lancer chuckles nervously as the man stays silent. "I, uh, didn't see you there. Pleasedon'tkillme." The man blinks, eyebrow arching as a slight smirk appears on his face.

"So, you can see me?"

"Eh?" Lancer watches as the man stares at the camera residing just over his heart. His expression darkens as he rests his gaze on the object, turning to stare at the wall after his examination.

"So you've chosen someone else, huh…" He mutters quietly, and Lancer speaks up to grab his attention.

"What do you mean "you've chosen someone else"? Actually, what the hell are you doing here? _How_ are you here?!" Lancer says and fums as the man gives him yet another smirk in response.

"You'll learn soon enough. You're looking for your brother, I presume?" Lancer eyes him suspiciously.

"...How do you know about…?"

"I can be of some assistance." He merely replies as he starts to go down the corridor on the right. He pauses and turns back towards Lancer, tilting his head to urge him to move. The blue-haired male can only sigh as he follows him, unaware of what stalked him and his unlikely companion as they searched for Diarmuid.

* * *

"This place...doesn't feel right." Lancer states as they walk, "And it's not because of all the rumors about it."

"Hoh?" The mystery man cocks an eyebrow, walking past a mirror at the end of the hallway. Lancer's dim light on his phone doesn't extend far enough to see what the man's reflection looked like but caught a glimpse of his own bewildered red orbs staring back at him. He stops in front of the mirror and runs his hand over it, his lack of footsteps causing the stranger to stop as well and to walk back towards him.

"No house should feel this way," Lancer says quietly, not wanting to pull his hand away from the smooth glass.

"Indeed." Was the only reply he receives from the stranger as he looks around him. He then tenses as shuffling could be heard.

"Something's coming; be on your guard." He says, and Lancer's eyes widen as he sees a misshapen figure appears at the opposite end of the corridor through the mirror. He whirls around to see ropes hanging down from the ceiling, some of them occupied with bodies swaying to and fro. _When did-_

"What-" The man pulls Lancer aside and into a room, where he shuts the door.

"If we're lucky it hasn't seen us." Lancer looks up at him and sighs.

"What is _it_ , exactly?" The man pauses before speaking.

"What was once a human but has sold it's soul to the devil, drowning in madness as it lost all sense of right and wrong. A bona fide demon, per say." Lancer hums in thought, wishing that he had a weapon on him even when he knew that it would be practically useless against an entity.

"Two questions. How do we stop that thing?" He doesn't know if the man would know about spirits, especially the ones residing in Himuro Mansion, so he's surprised when he gets an immediate response.

"You have that camera on you, correct? It's... _special_ , in that once you take a picture of the ghost it will suffice as much as if you had used a gun on a human." The disdain in the man's voice made him pause for a second and wonder what the camera had done to him before focusing on the current threat. _I just have to take pictures? Seems easy enough._ Lancer can hear the footsteps grow louder and quickly asks his next question.

"What's your name?"

The stranger pauses, as if hesitant to tell him. "...I have no recollection of my past life, so I have no name to provide you with."

"...Hmm…" Lancer thinks for a second, trying to come up with a nickname. _If my friends are Rider, Gil, Assassin ("You shall not pass," The purple haired man jokingly told him when they first met outside of Saber's Agency), Saber, and Berserker while I'm Lancer, then…_

"Archer." He says with finality, and the stranger's head perks up. He then closes his eyes and _bows_ to Lancer, which takes him by surprise.

"As you wish." At that moment the footsteps stop, and all is silent. Five seconds drag on, feeling close to an eternity for Lancer as the silence becomes suffocating. He starts wondering about Diarmuid and how he felt as he was chased by this...this _behemoth_. The thought of his little brother's terrified face as he tries to survive in this place all alone makes him growl and arm the camera (to Archer's amusement). At that moment, the shuffling ceases from the other side of the door, making Lancer's heart rate skyrocket as his expression morphs into one of uneasiness. Archer's stony facial expression doesn't help calm his nerves but the fact that the man is still here with him is... _comforting_ , to say the least. Lancer takes in a few, deep breaths, sending Archer a look as he slowly grasps the door handle, finger over the button that will, supposedly, defeat this demon in his other hand. Archer's eyebrow raises a fraction but lowers just as quickly as it had risen once he sees Lancer's tense figure, nodding to show his comprehension. In a flash, Lancer opens the door and whips the camera out from his side to take a picture, the flash and an inhumane howl of pain being his only reward for his actions.

"Look out!" A hand grabs his shoulder and yanks him backwards as claws pass mere inches from his face in a downward arc, the offending appendages appearing to fade into the floor yet the force of the attack seeming very real in Lancer's opinion.

"Thanks," Lancer breathes out as he stands up once more. "Didn't expect that to happen."

"Focus on surviving for now," Came Archer's flat tone as he dives through the opening and into the hallway. Lancer follows suit, flashing the demon with the camera once more and using the distraction to run after Archer, who was in front of a door further down the hallway. The blue-haired man quickly catches up to him, looking back the way he came from.

"That thing will come over here in a couple of seconds if not a minute, hopefully." Archer runs his hand over the surface of the door before nodding to himself, grasping the handle.

"That is the keyword indeed." The door opens with an audible _click_ and the two walk inside, Lancer trying to make as minimal noise as possible while Archer seemed to be a natural at being quiet.

"Diarmuid?" Lancer whispers into the darkness, straining his eyes as they try to discern any signs of his little brother. Archer hovers by the doorway, acting as a lookout in case the demonic entity makes it's presence known once more.

"...Cu?" A hesitant voice answers him and he breathes a sigh of relief as Diarmuid takes a step into his view.

"Diarmuid!" Lancer pulls him into a hug, the camera making it uncomfortable to do so. His brother smiles before looking over his shoulder to see Archer at the door.

"Who…?" Lancer grins awkwardly as Archer's eyes flit over to them for a second, hearing his name before looking out the door with an indifferent look on his face.

"His name's Archer; well, I call him that at least. He can't remember his own name." Diarmuid looks back at Archer before nodding, his gaze going to the camera instead.

"Did you buy a new camera before heading out? What, you wanted to take some photographs too?" Diarmuid jokes to lighten his brother's tension, however still curious about the device. Lancer's grin turns sheepish when he finally replies.

"...I...found it here. It was on the floor, and I picked it up." Diarmuid gives him a blank stare of disbelief before replying in a stunned tone.

"...Cu, I knew you were an idiot but I didn't think you were _this_ much of an idiot."

"Hey!" Lancer protests quietly, still aware of their predicament. However, Archer's snort of amusement was not helping at all. "Why are you laughing, Archer?!"

"Because your brother confirmed my suspicions of you being an idiot."

"If we make it out of here in one piece I will strangle you," Lancer says as Diarmuid laughs at him, "Demons or no." Archer's face almost looked apologetic for a second, which confuses the two brothers.

"What is it?" The younger of the two asks, concerned for the man. They were in this mess together, and in order to get out of it they would need to have no secrets between them.

"I cannot leave this place."

"WHAT?!" After a smoldering glare from Archer, which tells him to shut up, Lancer lowers his voice. "Why not?" He harshly whispers, appalling himself; he doesn't really take to people that fast, except Taiga of course.

"I am...bound here, in a manner of speaking. I wish for you two to not get involved." A scowl stretches across the white-haired man's face as he speaks. "I have a mission to complete. A duty, if you will."

"With a demon running amok here?" Diarmuid also lowers his voice to a whisper, golden pools staring at Archer with worry. To be honest Lancer felt the same way, even if the man was a stranger; highly stressful and terrifying experiences tend to bring people together.

"Precisely. I am protected from it, however ironic that may be." A wry smile makes it's way onto his facial features as he stares at the door. "I will aid you in your escape; in turn, may I ask what it is that brought you two here?"

"We're photographers," Diarmuid says in a rush as uneven footsteps drew closer to their location. "Arturia sent me here to get pictures of the interior-"

"Which should have been _my_ job-" Lancer butts in, earning a halfhearted glare from his brother.

"-and that... _thing_ attacked me. We plan on doing a cover for the journalist agency we're collaborating with concerning this mansion."

"Abandon that immediately." Archer says forcefully, surprising the two. "It's not safe here."

"No shit, Sherlock!" Lancer shouted at the same time the door blew off of it's hinges, knocking Archer back onto the floor where the brothers heard a sickening _crack_. He sat there, dazed, his head pounding after it had struck the concrete floor. Once the demon enters the room, Lancer finally gets a good look at it. Black hair obscures it's face, hanging limp while swaying to and fro as the apparition walks unsteadily. Even if the hair was out of the way, Lancer was sure that he wouldn't be able to see it's face anyways (nor would he _want_ to) since it's twisted, gnarled hands covered it's features with a sob. The clothing it wears is tattered, having definitely seen better days. It's cries were inhumane but it resonates something within him: _pity_.

He pitied this spirit, who wouldn't pass over peacefully.

At the same time, it hurt Archer. It tried to hurt _Diarmuid_.

And that is unacceptable.

"Dia, get Archer out of here." Lancer growls as he turns on the camera, much to his brother's confusion; however, the black-haired male nods as he helps Archer stand, waiting for an opening. The demon lurches closer, reaching one hand out for Diarmuid when Lancer takes a picture. It howls in pain, turning it's attention towards the blue-haired male who grins.

"That's right, _I'm_ your opponent. This way!" Diarmuid wastes no time in exiting the room, Archer giving (albeit slurred) instructions towards the entrance. Lancer sighs in relief as they make their escape before wincing as claws create three long and deep gashes down his forearm as the nails hook onto his flesh and practically tear it out. With a snarl he takes another picture, feeling satisfied once the demon backs off while screaming in agony. He just had to buy some more time…

"Come on!" He finds that the closer the demon is, the more effective the Camera Obscura seems to be. However, he had to time it just right so that he wouldn't get hurt again. With his right arm hanging limply at his side he waits, pressing the button once the demon winds it's arm back to attack. It stumbles backwards, a shriek escaping past it's lips as it disintegrates into oblivion.

Wasting no time, Lancer immediately set out after his brother and Archer.

* * *

"Diarmuid? Archer!" Damn, this is getting him nowhere. He had no idea where he's going, and he's pretty sure that Archer has a concussion. The winding hallways all look the same to him, and judging by his vision blurring that he's close to dropping from blood loss alone. With that thought in mind, he takes a look at his wounded arm and winces. Droplets of blood fall to the ground, twin streams of the red liquid trailing down his arm to congregate at his fingertips. Three vertical lines extend down his arm-a souvenir from the demon before it disappeared. _Hopefully, it was for good…_ He notices small purple engravings running along the sides of the wound, which alarm him; however, he had more important things to worry about.

"...-cer?" A voice breaks him out of his thoughts, resonating from his right. Making sure that the Camera Obscura was secured around his neck he runs towards the source of the noise, phone back in his uninjured hand and illuminating the corridor before him.

"Diarmuid!" Slipping on the wooden tiles he rounds a corner, bumping into someone.

"Ack!" By the sound of it, he had knocked Diarmuid onto the floor.

"Sorry about that…" Lancer apologizes, pocketing his phone and extending his hand down towards him. His little brother huffs but takes his hand, thanking him as he brushes dust off of his outfit.

"It's alright; I'm just glad you're safe. Speaking of, what happened to the demon…?" Lancer grins triumphantly, which sent a spark of hope through Diarmuid.

"Gone."

"You are _amazing!_ " The raven-haired male smiles in relief as he heads to the sliding door. Leaning against it was Archer, arm resting on his knee as he struggles to stay awake.

"So, you've learned how the camera operates…" The white-haired male smiles wryly as the brothers draw closer to him. "I must commend you for defeating the demon."

"You can leave now, right?" Lancer asks with his grin still in place. Honestly, battling a demon with just a camera and rescuing his little brother as well as a stranger-turned-friend was not what he was expecting to come out of the day but as long as they were all alive, it didn't matter.

"Perhaps." Archer jokes lightly, eyes slightly unfocused. He couldn't believe that he would make it out of this godforsaken place, let alone with two rather...eccentric brothers. Maybe, with the demon gone, his duty was done. "We shall make our way out at once."

Lancer and Diarmuid shift the man over to an adjacent wall before the latter grasps the handle. After sharing a look with his older brother, he yanks the door to the side and revels in the smell of fresh air. He turns back towards the two and smiles, helping Lancer support Archer.

"This is it." Lancer says to Archer as they step closer to the open doorway. The sun bears down on the lush wildlife surrounding the mansion, illuminating the scenery. To be honest, it looks like salvation to the trio. "You ready, Archer?"

"Mm." They step out into the sunlight, Diarmuid smiling so much his cheeks began to ache while Lancer cheers. They both then realize that they were missing one person, and a look of horror passes over their faces as they whirl towards the open doorway.

Archer stood there with steel orbs widening, a dismayed expression overcoming his features as an invisible boundary prevents him from exiting the mansion.

It's the last thing they saw before the door slams shut, the house looking almost innocent as muffled screams resonate from within.

* * *

 _Heeey, thanks for checking this out! I honestly love this idea, and it is actually a Fate/Stay Night UBW and Fate/Zero AU set in the Fatal Frame Game. So, Cu rescued his little brother but his newfound ally Archer is still trapped within the mansion. In the next chapter, Arturia is about to be confronted by an angry Cu Chulainn and the poor blunett is haunted by Archer's face. Also, he has strange engravings on his arm (which he should really get looked at)._

 _On the bright side, Gil and Rider made giant cinnamon rolls!_

 _Thank you guys again, and review your thoughts on this fic!_


	2. Chapter 2

_I own nothing, per usual._

 _ **Chama:**_ _I hope he's okay, too. Well, Archer's tough so he'll get through this! ...Hopefully. He has someone looking out for him, after all, and you'll find out who in this chapter!_

* * *

" _ **Sleepless nights at the black and white keys; I'll let my fingers say it for me. Sometimes my spirit's still so scared. Once I put it in a melody, it means so much more to me. Fate sealed, I guess this is how I feel; sometimes I swear the lyrics write me.**_

 _ **The lyrics write me."**_

 _~Rock and Roll Thugs by Icon For Hire_

* * *

For the following three days, Setanta "Cú" Chulainn couldn't stop seeing his face at night.

Archer's look of disbelief and, worse, of grim resolution.

The door swinging shut on their faces, mocking them.

The _screams_.

And he left him there.

 _I need to go back. Back to Himuro Mansion._

After all he's done for Diarmuid, for _him_ , he couldn't just leave him like that. He knows Diarmuid is equally as distraught as he is, wanting to head back as soon as possible. However, Lancer isn't about to let his little brother dive head first into danger again without a way to counteract it. As if hearing his thoughts the glint of the moonlight catches on the Polaroid which rests heavy on the blue-haired male's desktop, seeming to mock him for his inaction.

 _He's dying in there, and I can't do anything about it._

Growling in frustration, Lancer sits up in his bed at 1:00 am, tired eyes landing on the Camera Obscura. His fingers twitch, as if wanting to grasp the camera once more; he doesn't know if it is because of his own desire to take apart the camera to inspect it or if it's some outside force urging him to take up arms again with haste. With a great effort he turns away from it, dragging his tired body out of bed to grab a late night (early morning, he corrects himself) snack. Once he makes it downstairs to the kitchen he begins to fix himself a cup of tea, even if he isn't a huge fan of the drink; it is too early for coffee, and water wouldn't help him in this situation. While he loves beer, he just can't bring himself to drink it right now.

 _I wonder if Archer would like tea…_ The thought of the white-haired male brought unwanted memories to the surface and he growls lowly, grasping his cup a little tighter.

"Ah, so this is what you do on restless nights."

The lowered voice makes Lancer look up in surprise to see Gilgamesh standing in the doorway, arms crossed as his ruby orbs shone in exhaustion and irritation. Placing his cup down on the countertop the blue-haired male stares at him wearily.

"What do you want, Gil?" The blonde usually isn't one to approach him in a scenario like this; he actually expected Rider to find him but, as it seems, Fate doesn't play fair.

"Coffee." The male worms his way past Lancer to grab a cup out of the cupboard, turning on their coffee dispenser as he prepares himself a cup of pure caffeine. After he makes himself a cup he adds in three spoonfuls of sugar, mixing it and taking a sip. Once he deems it edible he leans against the counter, meeting Lancer's gaze.

"...That's it?" Honestly, the self-proclaimed "king" never ceases to amaze him. Or, rather, he hopes that the beverage was Gil's only intention.

"No." The blonde admits, shocking both himself and his roommate. "You seem to be lacking in your gung-ho personality, dog; it has reached the notice of one such as myself." He turns his gaze out the window that's located adjacent from their position against the countertop, seeming to be at war with himself before his usual condescending smirk crosses his features. "Feel privileged to receive my attention, mongrel."

Instead of laughing like he usually would, Lancer sighs heavily. "I already told you about the phone call I got from Diarmuid, remember?"

"Indeed. However, something still plagues your thoughts." Gil is a better friend than he let on. Lancer knew that this is his way of showing concern for him and he appreciated it…

...to some extent, because come on; this is _Gilgamesh_.

That alone warrants some caution.

"We...met someone there. Archer." Gilgamesh raises an eyebrow at the new information but doesn't interrupt, instead drinking some more of his coffee as his senses become sharper.

"We managed to make it to the front door, and we were so happy to get out of that hellhole...I think he still has a concussion." Lancer looks at his bandaged arm, seeing red seep through. His eyes glaze over at the memory, of the false hope they were given before reality snatched it all away. "The two of us supported him as we stumbled towards the door. Then, we were outside." He pauses, grip on his cup tightening as it shakes ever so slightly. "Dia was so _happy_. I felt...triumphant, because I accomplished exactly what I said I would. Then, we noticed that we were missing someone.

He was stuck in the doorway by some...boundary, I don't know. The look he gave me, Gil, it was…" Running a hand through his hair he lets out a frustrated huff, taking a sip of his herbal tea. "I can't stop seeing it. Everytime I close my eyelids, it's there. And I left him there."

Gil sets down his own mug of coffee on the countertop. Taking three strides over to Lancer, he punches him in the face.

"OW! What the hell, G-" Lancer pauses as he sees Gil's expression of disdain, fighting to keep the tea from spilling over his cup.

"You truly are a mangy mutt, aren't you? Stop licking your scabbed wounds." The blonde's ruby orbs shone with dissatisfaction. "You are a hound, one of which does not give up the fight so easily. That is one quality I, unfortunately, acknowledge about your existence. If there's one thing I have garnered from you and your coworkers, it's that you are not the type of mongrels to turn your backs on another." Picking back up his cup of coffee, Gilgamesh walks past him towards the stairs. "So, do what a lowly cur such as yourself does best." The man pauses, turning back to him. "Rider and I finished the cinnamon rolls a couple of days ago, but you never tried one. Luckily, there's extras in the fridge so do try one and be amazed by my expertise. And, be quiet from now on mongrel; I have work today." And with that, he ascended the stairs and went back to his room.

"..." To be honest, Lancer was speechless. _Leave it to Gil to give words of encouragement while insulting you left and right..._

However, he was right.

He's at his strongest when helping others, one quality he shares with his fellow photographers based on their experiences outside of their jobs. It is an impulse he acts upon, as if he was born to aid others. Sighing once more, but this time with a smile, Lancer takes a sip of his tea.

He knows exactly what to do.

* * *

Arturia Pendragon lets her eyes flit over the words on the page at five in the morning, scanning Diarmuid's report of Himuro Mansion. She furrows her eyebrows at some of the details described, putting the papers in a manilla envelope and pushing it across her desk before reaching for the pictures he provided her with. He seemed a little bit shaken as he handed them to her and she dismisses it as mere nerves due to the rumors surrounding the place. The exterior of the building was beautiful, in a sense; something about a building standing tall despite wearing down with age appeals to her.

 _Those are only the exterior, Arturia; Diarmuid has significantly fewer interior photos, though. Despite the lighting, the man knows how to capture the emotion in a picture._ She scans them quickly, as if hoping for a sign of life in there. _Please...give me a hint, Shirou._

"Ma'am," Her right hand secretary and best friend, Jeanne D' Arc, says as she inspects her monitor. "Cú Chulainn wishes to see you."

"Send him in." Jeanne nods and presses a button, leading the double doors to open and for the blue-haired man to storm in. He slams his hands down onto Arturia's desk, crimson orbs flashing with barely concealed fury.

"Saber, _what the fuck_." Arturia raises an eyebrow, setting aside the snapshots and folding her hands together as she rests them against the desk.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Chulainn?"

"You sent Diarmuid _on my job_." Arturia blinks, Jeanne sending a curious glance their way. "Remember? You gave the assignment to me, so what the hell was my little brother doing at that place at six am?"

"With all due respect, Lancer," Arturia replies cooly as she meets his gaze head on, "He requested to take the assignment off of your hands." The man seems taken aback, a sign that the younger Chulainn didn't tell him. _Probably as to not stress him. That sounds so much like Diarmuid it hurts._

"He did _what?_ Oh, he's gonna hear it from me when-"

"Lancer." Arturia cuts him off, making him return his attention to her. "If this is all you have to tell me, then may I ask that you take your leave quietly."

"No, that's not just it." Lancer growls, hands curling into fists on her table. He has balls, storming in and accusing her like this. Most men would run with their tail between their legs, but then again Lancer wouldn't be her friend if he didn't see past all of that.

"Oh, is that so?" Her eyebrow raises in curiosity, her petite form leaning forwards ever so slightly.

"Yeah. Today, I'm heading back." Jeanne's eyes widen, attention solely on their conversation.

"That implies that you have been there before. However, I'm interested in why you of all people want to go there."

"I just...want to get to the bottom of a mystery." Lancer admits, rubbing the back of his neck as his gaze lowers to the desk. "For the next couple of months, can you let me go?"

"Lancer, I would only do so for a few weeks. You know it's not in my power to let you stay in one spot for a " _couple of months_ ", as you've put it." If he raised his eyes, he would have seen something flicker in his friend's green orbs before descending once more.

"...Ah, I see." Okay then, that was a bust. He could always just sneak in and find Archer, defeating whatever came their way-

"However," Arturia cuts off his train of thought with a small smile on her lips, "Consider yourself lucky that the journal agency we're collaborating with is interested in the place. We arranged a meeting two days prior and we discussed a couple of topics before reaching a conclusion: we provide them with pictures, they write down the details. I was considering it, but this only solidifies my option."

"Wait...you don't mean…" Lancer was gaping at her, eyes wide as she continued with her smile clearly visible.

"Yes, Lancer; I'm choosing you to begin research on Himuro Mansion. I do hope you bring us good news and take even better shots of the place. The journal agency will send someone over in a few days, so until then you're on your own." Lancer broke out into a grin, taking Arturia's hands into his own and shaking them. She notices how the sleeve of one arm hitches upwards, revealing gauze underneath. _What happened to him on his day off?_

"Thanks, Saber!" He lets go of her hands and turns to leave when she calls out to him.

"Oh, and Lancer," She looks somewhat apologetic, which surprises him. "I apologize for sending Dia ahead of time."

Lancer blinks in astonishment before waving her off. "Nah, it's cool Saber. I'm just gonna have a quick chat with him."

"Do not reprimand him too much." Lancer chuckles, to her confusion. "What's so funny, Lancer?"

"I really wish my brother could see how much you love him; sorry that he's so oblivious, Saber." The blonde's face ignites into a fiery red and she stutters a retort, halfway through it once Lancer makes his exit. Her best friend laughs at her facial expression, a hand covering her mouth to stifle her laughter.

Oh, Lancer was going to pay for that.

Saber will make sure of it.

* * *

The mansion is taunting him.

Archer breathes heavily as he rests his back against the wall farthest from the door, trying to will his nausea away. He isn't stupid; he knows that he has a concussion but it wasn't as if he could just _leave_ this wretched place to get himself looked at. Following the concussion were the lacerations across his back and over his abdomen: his punishment for trying to escape.

He's been here for decades...Would they even allow him into a hospital without an ID, anyways?

 _I was a fool to think that I could escape._ Seeing Cú's-that's what Diarmuid called him, no?-face light up at the prospect of all three of them leaving together had brought a long-suppressed feeling back into Archer: _hope._

After thirty five years, he thought that he could escape.

Despair just _had_ to rear it's ugly head once more as he was prohibited from exiting.

This house toyed with him, giving him false freedom.

Will anyone come for him?

The last thought surprises Archer, making his steel orbs widen as he stares at nothing. Why, _why_ does he still have that foolhardy wish? No one has thought of him for years, so why still long for freedom? Blue hair and red eyes full of life enter his thoughts once more and he scoffs. That man probably won't come for him now that his younger brother is safe and sound.

But, he had the Camera Obscura.

In a way, he's bound to Himuro Mansion just as he is.

 _I'll keep him away; that's the only way he'll stay safe._

 _ **But you want to leave, right?**_

Archer gasps, startled as the familiar voice echoes throughout his mind, making him groan in pain as he reaches a hand upwards to grasp his head. It felt as if a thousand jackhammers were pounding ceaselessly into his brain, making it throb and protest at the damage. He snaps his gaze around the room, waiting for the man to show himself. _Show yourself._

 _ **Impatient as always.**_ A form materializes to Archer's left and he tenses, the room still spinning despite his best efforts. He has chestnut brown hair, brown to the point of being mistaken for black eyes piercing his very core. Dark tattoos litter his tan-skinned body, spiraling up his arms and appearing on his cheeks. A red cloth serves as a headband of sorts, loose ends twirling in the air as he moves closer to Archer. His clothes are worse for wear, decaying, yet he still wears them nonetheless. _**I'm curious as to who you're talking about.**_

"You already know." Archer retorts out loud, watching as the other man-who, really, looks to be in his late teens and early twenties-chuckles.

 _ **Aww, I wanted to hear it from you.**_ The boy inches closer and inspects Archer, whistling at the damage. _**Damn; that demon really roughed you up, didn't it?**_

"Of course. While spiritual entities may have no effect on me, a solid door is a different matter."

 _ **I know.**_ The boy giggles, remembering the moment. _**I wonder if that man's a keeper…**_

"Don't." Archer says with more force than he meant, surprising himself and the other male. "You've already involved him too much in this."

 _ **But, you miss him. I do, too, even if I'm eternally with him from now on.**_ A sly look is sent Archer's way but he ignores it, favoring his head instead.

"Then make yourself useful and grab an ice pack for me."

 _ **...You're joking, right?**_ The boy's unamused stare as he crosses his arms makes Archer want to chuckle, leading him to wonder how hard he hit his head on the floor. _**I can't grab anything, much less tangible objects outside of a certain radius.**_

"Unfortunate." The other male pouts, sitting down next to him with a sigh.

 _ **Do you think he can lift the curse on us?**_

"...I don't know," The white-haired man admits, wanting to sleep for an eternity. His concussion must be bad if he of all people is getting that urge, and the concrete is slowly starting to turn red underneath him. "He _does_ bear an uncanny resemblance to _that man_."

 _ **Yeah he does, doesn't he? I wonder if I'll be able to show myself to him soon; it took all of my power to make**_ **you** _**visible to him, you know.**_ The boy begins to chuckle, eyes alight with dry mirth. _**We're a sorry bunch, you and I. A cursed human and a cursed wraith.**_

"Mm." It was only a quick rest to restore his reserves…yes, that's all. Steel orbs begin to dull as Archer's eyelids grow heavy, his body relaxing it's muscles involuntarily.

 _ **Don't fall asleep with that concussion of yours. Even if you're stuck at this age for eternity, you can still die like a normal human being, and I still have stuff to tease you about. Hey...HEY!**_ The boy is shaking him to no avail; Archer nods off, eyes shut as his breathing slows.

 _ **...Shit! The things I do for you, Shirou…**_ Clicking his tongue, the brown-haired male stands up in a hurry as he scans Archer's form once more, dematerializing.

It's time to bring him back to the mansion.

* * *

"Okay! Water bottle, check. Grapes and Trail Mix, check. Rubbing alcohol, check. Gauze for my arm, check. Ice pack for Archer as well as medical supplies to treat his concussion, check. Flashlight, check. Phone, check. Weird camera that can beat demons? Hell yeah!" Lancer pumps his left fist in the air with a grin on his face, ramped up for his trip. The sun was creeping down behind the line of buildings, signalling that evening has arrived.

"You sound as if you're going camping, Lancer." Rider passes his room with a fond shake of her head, violet hair billowing behind her as she walks.

"In a way, I am. I'll be back either later tonight or tomorrow morning."

"Then, take some of these brownies. Gil and I baked them while you were out." She hands him a Ziploc bag full of brownies, the heavenly smell reaching the blue-haired man's nose.

"You guys are the best, you know." He thanks her and places it into his black canvas sling bag. He knows that his phone's at full power and checks the bottles of water inside the bag, content.

"We know. Also, Gil says that his baking is better than yours."

"Ha! He wishes." Rider then gives him a look of concern, which makes his laughter die down. "Maddie?"

"Your arm." She gestures to it, the bandage hidden underneath a storm grey hoodie that's a little too big on him. (It was the only size they had left at the store and he loves it, no matter how loose it fit.) "Are you sure you're healed enough for this?"

Truth be told, his arm hasn't healed up any which worries him. It still bleeds constantly, and the purple engravings only increase his own concern. "You know me; I heal pretty fast. In a couple of days, it'll be good as new!" Rider looks skeptical but nods, patting his shoulder before continuing onto her own room.

"I'll take your word for it."

As soon as she left, the grin on Lancer's face is replaced with a frown. He glances at his right arm as it begins to burn, making him hiss quietly.

"Ah…!" Now it really, _really_ burned. Rolling up the sleeve he's shocked to see a purple glow from underneath the gauze, small letters floating up and flying towards the wall where they enlarged so he could see it properly.

 **Hurry. He needs you.**

For some reason, Lancer has a feeling that he knew what the message is about and rushes to throw the bag over his shoulder. He slung the Camera Obscura around his neck, feeling the metal reside over his heart once more. Running down the stairs, he pulls on his boots and bolts out the door, grabbing Gaé Bolg and hopping on it once he gains enough speed.

For a brief second there's a flicker as the space next to Lancer seems to warp, depicting the outline of a boy with a red headband and tan skin with multiple winding tattoos running next to him.

* * *

"Archer?" Lancer sets his beloved skateboard to the side once more as he arrives at Himuro Mansion, crimson orbs shining with worry. He doesn't try to find anything to prop open the door; once he opens it he shuts it behind him, murmuring a "Sorry for the intrusion" quickly on instinct before fishing his flashlight out of his backpack. He clicks it on, searching for the man as his right arm throbs.

"Archer!" Can't the man give him a sign or something? Lancer still doesn't know his way around the place, and what little he should was spent trying to run from a demon. _Damnit!_

He sweeps the light around the room, taking in the overturned furniture. He then spots a corridor to the right and decides to follow it; for some reason the hallway to his left gave off an ominous aura, as if it's tainted. Exhaling slowly as to steel his nerves, the blue-haired male traverses the winding hallway while checking each room he comes across. He doesn't know how long he's been going at it, but once he makes a left down the corridor and reaches the fourth door down he opens it with haste.

"Archer?" He calls out, the beam of light illuminating the room as his eyes sweep from the right to the left. It falls on an unmoving form, making him jump but inspect it against his better judgement. _It could be another demon…_

A shock of white hair and tan skin gets his attention and he runs over, shaking the man's shoulder. His gaze travels downwards to where a dark spot stains Archer's clothes, letting the flashlight settle on it. His eyes widen as he sees the blood, shaking Archer's shoulder more roughly.

"Wake up! You have a concussion, so don't fall asleep you...you Bowman!" To his relief, Archer stirs and cracks open an eye. Silence ensues as a frown makes its way onto the white-haired male's features.

"...Surely you jest." Archer groans as Lancer tries to lift his shirt, the blood from his wounds sticking to the fabric and making it painful to take off.

"Nope; I'm here, and I did just call you that." The blue-haired male sets down his flashlight and takes off his backpack, pulling out some rubbing alcohol and the gauze he originally put inside for himself. Once he sets those down he has Archer lean forward as he takes off the man's shirt, grimacing at how bloody it's become.

"This'll sting." He says as he unscrews the cap, pouring it over Archer's wounds. The man keeps quiet, although his muscles tense once the liquid hits his skin. After taking out a rag the Irishman cleans the other's body, finishing with gauze. A minute passes, and Lancer hands him an ice pack.

"For your head." He clarifies, Archer's bewildered stare piercing him as he takes the cold pack and presses it to his head slowly. While the bandaging was somewhat sloppy, it's better than bleeding out with a concussion.

Honestly, he didn't think that the blue-haired male would come back for him.

"You have my gratitude." Lancer chuckles, remembering their first meeting.

"I never really told you my name, huh?" His crimson orbs dance in the darkness as their gazes meet. "I'm Setanta Chulainn, though my friends usually call me Lancer." He then pauses, as if considering something. "My brother sometimes calls me Cú, though. I have no idea why."

"I shall refer to you as Lancer, then." Archer sighs with content, welcoming the cold kiss of the ice pack. It does wonders for his throbbing head, the pain dulling to the point where he can be conscious for hours on end without it bothering him.

"Huh. You sound a lot like my friend, you know."

"Hoh?" Archer stares at the darkness in front of him while Lancer looks up at the ceiling, noting the decaying support beams.

"Her name's Arturia, but I call her Saber. You both speak in this formal tone, and sometimes I can't tell when she's being serious or joking around with me."

Arturia…

"Though, she can be a sore loser sometimes. I remember beating her in a race and she challenged me to a sword duel. She knows I do best with spears and the like. Jeez!"

Saber…

"Oh, she also eats a _lot_ of food without gaining any weight. Her metabolism's crazy, to be hones-Archer?"

 _The King of Knights._

Pain makes it's presence known once again, searing across his mental landscape and Archer hisses in agony.

That _name_...if only he had a face to match it…

Nevermind that; why does it sound so...familiar?

"Archer?"

"It's nothing." He says through gritted teeth. Was she in his past life, somehow? If he could meet her...

"Like hell it's nothing!" Blue and red fills his view and he blinks, seeing Lancer scrutinize him. "Tell me. We're both in this hellhole, so we may as well not keep any secrets that are important. Is it your concussion?"

"No; rather, that name sounds...familiar. Arturia, is it?" Archer closes his eyes as the name leaves his lips, a feeling of nostalgia washing over him.

"Oh, I forgot you have amnesia…" Lancer muses, leaning back to get out of Archer's personal space. "Anyways, yes; that's her name. I'll bring a photo next time. You know, to jog your memory."

"That would be appreciated." Lancer puts his back to the wall beside him, pulling out a bottle of water and tossing it to him.

"Here." Archer takes it, grateful as he takes a sip. His companion sighs and closes his eyes, one knee drawn up to his chest as the other is stretched out lazily.

"As payment, you can keep watch."

"You're staying?"

"Well, yeah!" Archer's incredulous stare makes him grin, forcing his muscles to relax as sleep starts to overcome him. "I can't just leave you here like this, Archer. I'm going to get you out because that's what I do best: helping others."

"Are you insa-" Looking over, Archer sees that Lancer has fallen asleep, giving away how tired he must be. With a snort of amusement he cradles the bottle in his right hand, taking a swig. On that same side, the air shimmers as a boy sits down next to him.

 _ **That was nice of him to come back.**_

 _Only because you made him, I suppose._ Archer lets his mental link do the talking, not wanting to wake up his companion. The boy grins somewhat sheepishly before staring into the abyss, seeing out of the corner of his eye Archer turning off the flashlight.

 _ **Actually, he was gearing up to come here for you before I gave him a message.**_

 _And that message was?_

 _ **To hurry the fuck up because my only source of entertainment was dying on me.**_

 _Ah, so the truth reveals itself._ Archer knows that the boy was joking, whether he knows it himself or not.

 _ **Yeah, 'cause then I'd be bored. You're the only one who can see me so far, after all.**_

 _How long until Lancer can?_

 _ **Four more days, max.**_ The boy looks smug as he folds his arms, a smirk on his face. _**I know; I'm amazing like that.**_

 _As you wish._

 _ **Says the guy whose name is Archer.**_ Archer's ghostly companion pouts at the hidden insult, changing the subject which surprises him.

 _ **Well, at least you're a step closer to remembering something.**_

 _Arturia...just who is she?_ He has too many questions, yet so few answers.

 _ **I don't know.**_ The boy shrugs, standing up. _**I'll keep watch; get your rest.**_

 _Someone is being suspiciously competent._

 _ **Put a sock in it.**_ The wraith of a boy says in exasperation, flipping him the bird. _**I'm just ensuring that I get to stay here for a little longer by his side, even if he's not**_ **that man.** _ **If you have anything even remotely funny to tell me, I'm all ears: just tap the lens**_ _**twice. By then, I'll certainly have enough to torture you with.**_

 _Just leave already._ Archer huffs with a small grin on his face, watching the boy dematerialize as he walks off. With a grimace due to his wounds, he closes his eyes and tries to rest.

* * *

The wraith stares at the two sleeping forms with barely concealed melancholy, directing his mocha orbs to look down the corridor. Half of him-the one that's in control-hopes that Archer regains his lost memories of who he was thirty five years ago. He sincerely believes that Lancer can help him out, having faith in the man who resembles _him_.

The other half wishes to see him suffer.

It wishes to bring pain down onto the duo, to tear their throats out and to watch them bleed out because it'll bring him just another step closer to becoming human. It wants to **destroy** , to **mutilate** , to **crush** anything and everything.

 _ **We can't; that's what**_ **It** _ **wants.**_

With a sigh of annoyance, he walks down the corridor to battle his inner demons.

* * *

 _So, Gil gives Cú_ _a pep talk_ , _Archer still has his concussion although it's not as bad now that Lancer showed up, and a couple of new characters make their appearance! Arturia was fun to write, as well as Jeanne (even if she isn't really mentioned here)._

 _Anyone care to guess who the wraith is? I might have made him too obvious…review if you think you know!_

 _Anyways, thanks for sticking with this story and I'll see you guys in Chapter Three! (Comment your thoughts on this story if you want to, as well!)_

 _~VampChippzRisesAgain_


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